Christmas' Lights
by Slytherin Cat
Summary: A sweet holiday in a chalet for Draco and Hermione for their first Christmas together. Because sometimes you have to wait for you Charming Prince. Draco/Hermione. Christmas' gift to Clever Ink Slinger.


This is written as a Christmas gift for Clever Ink Slinger and as part of the Pairing Diversity Boot Camp (for the prompt fire) on the HPFC. Happy Christmas!

**Christmas' Lights**

After the final battle, Hermione had dated Ron for a while, but they soon came to realize that their love was only born from the heat of the war and the thought that they could die at any moment. Hermione, with her logical mind, noticed this sooner than Ron, who grasped at their relationship like a dying man to life. Ron thought he loved Hermione for longer even if internally he realized that something was wrong. After the first two months, they stopped sleeping together, one of them always having an excuse ("I'm busy", "someone called me, I have to go", "If we want to return to Hogwarts and finish our studies we have to be prepared"…) and after the sixth month they didn't even kiss anymore.

They talked about it, and though he denied it rather forcefully at first, in the end the redhead admitted that he too didn't feel the passion anymore. They decided mutually to just stay friends and if one day the spark reappeared, well, then they could try again. But Hermione really doubted that would happen one day. After all, they had always been known for their formidable arguments and not for their unconditional love.

Hermione had immersed herself in her work and managed to graduate first in their promotion (that didn't really surprise anyone of course, but she couldn't help but doubt herself). After Hogwarts she dated a few men, including Terry Boot, who was her longest relationship. They stayed together for a whole year before he broke up, apparently because she didn't show her love for him enough. Hermione wasn't stupid and had noticed how these last weeks he always came home with a woman's perfume all over him. And it was decidedly not hers.

Though it hurt, she appreciated that he had least had the decency to break up with her before it got too serious between them. It was how she had one night found herself in a bar, a little too drunk where she had met Draco Malfoy.

It was the first time they saw each other since the final battle, seeing as he hadn't gone back to Hogwarts and finished his education homeschooled by his mother (his father was of course in prison but Harry had pitied him and supported the fact that Narcissa and Draco had been threatened of death).

Somehow he had become less of a brat than he had been at school and his mother, finally free of Lucius' influence, had been able to teach him not to show his hate of the Muggleborn openly and that Muggle weren't as bad as his father told him. She had used her sister Andromeda for this and it had been easy to convince the young Slytherin that Lucius wasn't right, especially because he had thought joining the Dark Lord was a good idea.

He didn't insult her, didn't mock her on her pitiful love life and he even (with the help of the alcohol of course) told her a little about his own less than perfect love life. He made a surprisingly good conversation when he wanted to apparently. It almost made her regret that he had such an arse back at Hogwarts.

They were more similar than what she would have thought. Both had been isolated when they were children, he because his father didn't want him to frequent "inferior" people and her because people didn't want to talk to her, both were brilliant (in their own different ways) and both had been disappointed by love.

Apparently Draco's fiancée, Astoria (she had been promised to Draco by a marriage contract, apparently signed by their parents for more prestige and political power. Narcissa hadn't known until it was too late) had slept with someone else and that had broken said contract. Lucius had been clever enough to include a clause about infidelity. The sad thing was that somewhere along the line Draco had fallen for her when she had (obviously) not.

After hours of talk and drink after drink, they had somehow ended up in a dark corner outside the pub, kissing against a wall. When hands began to wander too much, Hermione had managed to resurrect enough of her neurons to leave before they did something they would both regret and he agreed that this (whatever it was) was not a good idea.

Unfortunately fate decided otherwise, because for the next week Draco couldn't stop thinking about Hermione and Hermione couldn't help but remember how she had loved his kisses that night. Their second meeting had been a complete accident, but a very welcomed one. They set up a date and had dinner in a wonderful restaurant just outside London. Hermione liked to think this was when she fell in love with him, Draco pretended it was when she 'accidentally' spilled red wine on her dress and make him bring her back to her home where they had the best sex he ever had.

They met again, again and again and neither knew exactly when they labeled their relationship as such, but they did and one day Hermione found herself referring of Draco as her boyfriend while he thought of her as a girlfriend.

And this was their first Christmas together. He had wanted to do something special for her while she just wanted to keep it simple. In the end he brought her to his chalet in Switzerland, remembering that she used to go ski with her parents and loved it. It was the perfect middle: something special but simple enough to satisfy Hermione.

They had planned to spend two weeks alone in there, meaning they would be together for Christmas and the New Year. They had both took days off from their respective works and Draco had reserved everything they would need to ski and have fun, including dinners in way too popular (to Hermione's mind) restaurants, spas and even a teacher should they want to try snowboard too.

The first week had gone incredibly well. It was like living in a dream for both of them, a really good one. They had skied together – well Hermione had skied and Draco had tried not to fall too many times or collide with trees, or lose his skis (he really had the worst luck at this. Hermione was always laughing at him while he was sure the skis were cursed). It had been the funniest thing the bushy-haired witch had ever seen, to watch the usually proud pureblood defeated by Muggle skis.

Tonight was Christmas night and Draco had planned for them to go to a special restaurant for dinner. He had planned for a Portkey, for they weren't authorized to Apparate in this country (something about it being reserved for the Aurors…), but that was without counting the horrible snowstorm that decided to manifest itself that day. The chalet was too isolated for them to ask for help, it didn't have any way to communicate anyway, the Portkey wouldn't work now that the storm could interfere but at least the wards would keep them safe from an avalanche should one happen.

And they had a log fire to keep them warm (Hermione refused to use warming spells, she found them too impersonal). They had settled in front of it, wrapped in a fluffy blanket, Hermione using Draco as her own pillow and two fuming cup of peppermint hot chocolate in front of them. Her favorite.

"You know, this isn't exactly what I had planned for our first Christmas. I booked us a dinner in this charming little restaurant you would have loved. Well I supposed we'll just have to try again." Draco sighed and sipped his hot chocolate. He looked so dejected that Hermione couldn't help but laugh a little at how cute he looked like this.

She straightened and kissed him softly. His lips stretched into a smile as he kissed her back. She settled herself again comfortably against him and he put his arm on her shoulders, bringing her closer to him. A comfortable silence settled as they began to drift off to sleep.

"Draco?"

"Uhm…", Draco muttered as she shook him of his drowsing. She looked at him, her chocolate's eyes softening.

"I love you"

And the only thing he could answer was "Marry me?" He blamed the atmosphere, really. And her smile. And her laugh. And her eyes too.

Later, they made love in that place where he had asked her to marry him and where she had said yes (because really, what else could she answer?) as the fire slowly died out and the smoke from their two discarded cups of ever-hot chocolate interweaved.


End file.
